Soon You'll Get Better
by ttfan111robstar1
Summary: He'll get better soon, because he has to. Seto sits at Mokuba's bedside, hoping, praying, for him to get better, because he doesn't know what he'll do otherwise. Now a two-shot. Title inspired by the Taylor Swift song of the same name.
1. Soon You'll Get Better

Seto Kaiba typically enjoyed quiet.

His work got done far more efficiently when things were silent, and in the quiet of late nights before he slipped into bed, he had time to gather his thoughts. He preferred quiet to noise, because it felt as though quiet was the only thing that allowed him to slow down from the hustle and bustle of his everyday life.

But he hated this quiet. Hated it with a burning passion that made him want to scream.

The smell of antiseptic stung his nose, and the blinding fluorescent lights were irritating to him. He'd always hated hospitals. They seemed harbingers of death to him, and with why he was here, it might very well have been. Footsteps did not dare enter this room, lest he bark at them to leave. It was a still time, a quiet time. Occasional sobs could echo through the halls sometimes, or footsteps on linoleum floors could be heard, but not this night. This night, sound did not dare pierce the bubble that this room provided himself and his little brother.

Mokuba lay in his designated bed, sleeping peacefully. His complexion was sallow, and his cheeks sunken in. Dark circles were beneath his eyes, as though he hadn't slept in days, despite sleeping now being his main activity. The oxygen tube going into his nose somehow seemed bigger than his small body, and the thought made Seto wince. His little brother looked like a rag doll somebody had tossed away.

He'd been camped out in this room for three weeks, never once going to work or going home either. He worked from his laptop in the small hard-backed chair in the room, next to an outlet. He didn't dare leave. Not when his brother needed him.

They'd been here before, many times over the years. Seto could still remember coming here for the first time with his father when his brother had been only two. It was a defining moment in his life, the first time he'd ever heard the words Hodgkin's Lymphoma. He could still remember the chill that ran down his spine at the words. He hadn't known what it was, of course, but he'd known it hadn't been good by the look on his father's face. He hadn't shown Mokuba he was scared, though. Not then, and not now either.

It had come back once before, when Seto was thirteen and his brother seven. He'd shown no weakness, no fear. All of those things had been beaten out of him by Gozaburo at that point. It had, mercifully, abated fairly quickly, letting the brothers breathe more easily. Seto had stuck by Mokuba through all of it, and never once batted an eye. Chemotherapy, radiation therapy, surgeries, and more. He'd stayed right by Mokuba's side through all of it, never minding once when his brother got sick on him or he had to wipe his nose when he got an occasional nosebleed. He didn't care what he had to do, as long as his brother was cured.

When his blood tests had come back from the doctor last month showing signs of relapse, Seto hadn't admitted that that same chill of fear he'd felt as a young child had come back to him. It came back every time, whether he showed it or not, and he made sure to never show it. His brother had enough fear for the both of them. Mokuba had curled into his side the day the got the news, weeping for hours on end. Seto had held him the entire time, stroking his long, smooth black hair, and wondering morbidly when the last day he'd get to do that would be. Chemotherapy always made Mokuba lose his hair. The answer had come soon after his chemotherapy had started, when he'd woken up to fistfuls of black hair covering his pillow.

Now, his little brother looked more like a baby, with his bald head and large eyes, rather than the energetic eleven year old he was. The thought put a lump in Seto's throat.

He looked up at the orange bottles pumping something- he couldn't quite remember what- into his brother. He looked at those bottles the way he looked at his Blue Eyes White Dragons. They were as close to a God as he could believe in, and he prayed to them every night, to make his brother better. He was desperate to hold onto some sliver of hope, and grasped at them. They had always come through for his brother, and he needed them to come through again. The innate helplessness of the situation was sickening to him. He hated not being able to do anything, to not be able to fight the threat to his brother's life as he'd always done. It was more than he could bear, and so he tried to work to get his mind off of it whenever it came up, but sometimes the thoughts just wouldn't leave him be, and so he would pace the room, trying to outrun them, and his own feelings.

He didn't pace now. Instead, he prayed to the orange bottles.

_Make him better. Please, get him better. I'd be lost without him._

The words were always the same in his prayers, the fervor behind them never decreasing. He didn't know how else to pray. Religion and beliefs were for fools. He'd always thought so, and had often been proven right at the hands of Yugi and his band of Geeks. Their belief in Egyptian fairytales had amounted to nothing thus far. But now, with the life of his brother at stake, he was willing to believe in anything, so long as his brother was alright in the end.

Looking at his little brother now, he felt a sense of dread ball up in the pit of his stomach. It always came at their trips to the doctor's offices, and any time his little brother was in the hospital. It was attached to a thought, one that played on a loop in the back of his mind. He never acknowledged it, but often times heard it's whisperings on quiet nights like these from the recesses of his mind.

_Today might be his last day._

The hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention. It was as though someone had spoken the terrible thought aloud, rather than it being whispered at the back of his mind. His shoulders tensed up, and his hands curled into fists. He rode out the thought for as long as it lasted, before he could relax again.

A man of many means, there wasn't much that could make him feel defeated. In fact, defeat being admitted by him was a rare thing. But this disease, this powerlessness to do anything, made him feel more defeated than Yugi Moto had ever made him feel. Though this sickness and treatment was continually weakening his brother, it was weakening him too, something he was loathed to admit. Because admitting his own weakness felt like he was sentencing his brother to death. For all his efforts to protect his little brother, he could do nothing about this, and he hated it more than he hated his Stepfather, which was saying a lot.

He was thankful Gozaburo couldn't see him now, weakened and vulnerable. Who knew what he would have done with that. He couldn't say the same about Yugi and the rest of the nerd herd, who had all seen him at his lowest point earlier in the day.

They'd come to the hospital at Mokuba's request, and Seto hadn't turned him down. He didn't dare refuse his brother anything right now. When they'd all entered the room, Mokuba's state had shocked them all. That was expected. But upon second glance, it was Kaiba who was the more changed.

He sat hunched in on himself at his brother's bedside. His face was long, pointed. Dark circles were under his eyes, making his complexion appear chalky. Somehow, despite the lack of them, they could all tell where the lines would someday form on his face. Shadows seemed to cast themselves on his face. His eyes, usually so calm and steely, were the eyes of someone who had suffered a thousand years of torment, and was somehow still enduring it. It was the face of a man ten times older than sixteen.

He'd aged a thousand years in mere days.

For a moment, they were all so taken aback by this that they stood in the doorway, flanked by Roland and Fugata who were keeping watch over their bosses. Then, the seriousness of what had happened had truly sunken in.

"Seto." Mokuba said softly, but Kaiba reacted as though he'd yelled. Grabbing a basin from beside his chair, he got right beside his brother and got the basin in front of it just in time for Mokuba to throw up. Seto had an arm around his brother, rubbing his back, trying to murmur words of comfort to him while trying not to notice the fact that he could practically count all of his brother's bones in the process.

"It's alright. You're alright." He'd said softly.

When Mokuba had laid back down, exhausted from the bout of nausea, Seto looked at him.

"Do you want me to get a nurse to see if she'll give you some Zofran to help with your nausea?"

"No… I'll probably just throw it back up." Came the soft sigh.

"Will you be okay for a few minutes while I go clean out the bucket?"

"Yeah." Mokuba said softly.

"Okay." Seto replied, Stroking Mokuba's bald head with his hand.

Seto was not unaware of who was in the doorway, but at that point didn't care. He didn't have the energy to keep up a superior façade today. Instead, he wordlessly walked through the doorway, passing them all as he tried to retain any scrap of dignity he had left in him as he tried to stop the weakness and fear that seemed to be growing inside him with every passing minute, and might soon threaten to consume him.

He'd gone to the bathroom in the hall to clean the bucket, not wanting to do it in Mokuba's bathroom in case he needed it. He could still get there if the need arose. He dumped out the basin in the toilet, and then rinsed it in the sink, using a squirt of soap from the dispenser to clean it, before rinsing it again, and using paper towels to dry it. He set the bucket down a moment, and looked in the mirror at himself.

He looked like a zombie. His ashen complexion combined with the deep purple circles under his eyes made him look more dead than alive. His eyes were glassy, and held the pain of a man ten times his senior who had watched everything he loved die. He realized in a moment of clarity that there was a very good possibility of that happening. He immediately splashed some cold water on his face, trying to rid himself of the thought, and wake himself up some more. It only worked for one of them.

He wiped his face off with a paper towel, and tried to put a smile on his face for his brother. Mokuba loved it when he smiled. He decided to test it out, just to see what it felt like. He imagined himself beating Yugi with his Blue Eyes Ultimate Dragon to try and make the smile more genuine. The corners of his mouth tipped up ever so slightly, quavered, and then dropped back down. He couldn't smile now. He didn't know how to pretend to be happy when he wasn't. Not even for his brother's sake. He'd forgotten how.

He grabbed the bucket, and headed back toward Mokuba's room. He found his little brother smiling as Yugi regaled his latest duel with Joey to him. The sight of his little brother happy was enough to almost- _almost- _Make him smile. He moved his way through the room, sitting back down in the chair he'd claimed as his own from the first day he had been there, and kept his eyes focused on his brother, because he was afraid if he looked at any of the other faces in the room that he knew were looking at him with such concern, he thought he might do the unthinkable and cry.

Every time he'd been in a room like this, he'd always been there alone. It had been up to him and him alone to try and take care of his brother. He'd been the only one to brave through operations and chemotherapy, vomiting and nosebleeds, and it had weighed him down immeasurably. To see other people, not under his employ, in this room because they actually _cared _about his little brother was an overwhelming feeling, because it was the first time he hadn't actually had to shoulder this burden of a disease on his own. Much as he hated to admit it, he was grateful for that relief, and being grateful to anybody else was not a feeling to which he was accustomed.

He did not live in delusion. He knew his brother was far from okay, and there was a very real chance that his brother could die from this disease. To see anybody make him happy was a profound blessing. For his own emotional health, he tried, however foolishly, to pretend this wasn't real, but there were moments when reality crept in and tried to pull the rug out from underneath him. Everybody looking at him the way he knew they were- with their pity and their sorrow for his brother was enough to break that illusion. It was enough to nearly break the steel walls he put around in his emotions and let them come pouring out. He was certain those walls were holding back a floodgate of tears that was so great it could drown them all.

Somehow, and looking back on it he didn't know how, he managed to keep himself together through the entirety of the nerd herd's visit. There were murmured goodbyes to both himself and Mokuba, and he nodded in acknowledgement of them before they left. It was all that he could do to show that he was grateful. Then, when it was just he and his brother again, quiet settled over them both for a while.

Seto had almost thought his brother had fallen asleep when a tiny voice broke through his thoughts.

"Seto?"

His eyes flashed over to his little brother. "What is it, Mokuba?"

"Am I going to die?"

The words were like a punch to the gut, and Seto found himself inhaling sharply at their impact. His heart leapt up into his throat and refused to go back where it belonged. He knew his brother must have wondered that more times than he could possibly count, but to actually _hear _the words was nearly more than he could take. Still, he answered immediately.

"No, Mokuba. You're going to beat this like you have every time before, and you're going to get better."

"When?"

"Soon." He said. Though he knew very well the words he spoke could be a lie, his brother didn't need to know that. Now was a time for optimism, not dark reality.

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

_You have to get better, Mokuba. I don't know what I'd do without you._

Mokuba smiled a little at the reassurance, and then yawned.

Seto pulled Mokuba's blanket up a little further over him. "Get some sleep, alright, kiddo?"

Mokuba gave a small nod and shut his eyes, before his breathing evened out and he was asleep.

Seto felt his emotions running rapidly toward the breaking point. The steel walls around his emotions were rusting quickly, and beginning to crumble. He found himself breathing shakily, and then, in a moment of complete insanity, he buried his face in his hands and felt himself beginning to cry, something he hadn't done since before his father had passed away.

He did not sob loudly, nor wail in his anguish as someone more dramatic than himself might have done. The only indications of the lachrymose liquid coming down his face were the shaking of his shoulders and the occasional inhale that made an odd choking sound. He kept quiet out of necessity, so that Mokuba would not hear or see him break. His brother didn't need to deal with his stupid emotions right now. He had more than enough to deal with on his own.

He did not know how long he cried for. At some point, however, he felt the sensation that he was being watched. He did not turn to see who it was. He did not need to. When footsteps came quietly into the room, he knew their presence very well. He could tell in some inarticulate way that Yugi Moto was in the room, and he had no doubt that the rest of the nerd herd was standing just outside of the door. The reason why he was there wasn't as important to Seto- Perhaps he had forgotten something in Mokuba's room- but the fact that he was present at all was. The shame he felt at anybody witnessing this overt display of weakness was nearly too much to bear. The presence of his eternal rival was one he knew without ever having to look. He did not raise his head to look at him. He was too ashamed to. He kept crying, unsure if he could stop now that he'd started, and waited until the footsteps went away and the feeling of being watched abated.

When all the tears had at last drained from his body, they were replaced by some odd, hollow sensation. It was as though a sea had drained from him and now there was nothing else there, like a crater made by something that had happened. Yugi crossed his mind again, the reason for his return flitting briefly through his thoughts, but he decided to let it go. He didn't have the strength or energy to deal with that right now. Instead, he shut his eyes, noting the odd, gritty feeling they now had, and tried to sleep himself.

He was in an odd state of semi-consciousness for the duration of his "sleep". He could still hear the sounds in the room, but for the most part he was certain he was asleep. When he woke completely, he was relieved to find Mokuba still sleeping. Remembering his bout of tears from earlier, he silently made his way to Mokuba's bathroom, and shut the door quietly, flicking on the light and looking at himself in the mirror.

The tracks of his tears were mercifully gone, though his eyes were slightly puffy. He splashed his face with cold water, trying to make the feeling of stiffness in it go away. It helped some, to his surprise. He dabbed his face dry with a paper towel, and then went back to his brother.

Mokuba didn't wake for another hour after that, and he spent the time his brother was still sleeping working on his laptop. When he woke up, they spent a long time talking. They both ate dinner, but Mokuba couldn't keep his down for very long. Seto offered him some saltines and ginger ale instead in hopes that he could keep that down, and was relieved when he did. They talked until Mokuba fell asleep again, which had led him to now.

The night was so still and quiet, a time for contemplation. He tried not to think about the events of the day, for they brought pain and shame in equal measure. He didn't want to think about Yugi and his friends seeing his heart of glass shattered, because the intrinsic shame that came along with it was overwhelming. He didn't want to think about his little brother asking if he was going to die, because the thought was too much for him to bear. But those words, that question, kept replaying over and over in his mind like a broken record.

He realized now that their lives would never go back to normal- if they were ever normal. Now that that question had been asked it was as though it was a shadow that would loom over them both forever. He'd never been one to seriously contemplate his own death- for in his mind he was immortal- but the idea of _Mokuba's _death was enough to leave him completely undone. The words he'd told his brother earlier flashed through his mind, telling him that he'd get better soon, but the more he thought about them, the more he realized something. The words were meant more as a reassurance to himself than to his brother.

He had to believe that Mokuba was going to make it, for his own sanity. Who would he talk to aside from his brother? What would he do without him? A world without his brother was so unthinkable, so frightening, that he had to beat down a scream from inside of himself. If he were to be honest with himself, he could say he was likely more afraid of Mokuba dying than Mokuba might have been. The truth was that Mokuba was the only person in the world who kept him human. Gozaburo had tried to scrub every stain of humanity from him, but his enduring love for his little brother had stayed there, solid as a rock, through everything. He feared that if Mokuba died, not only would he lose his brother, but he would lose the only part of himself that wasn't a cold, calculating, dueling machine.

The truth of the matter was, in all of it, that a world without Mokuba wasn't one worth living in. He was a man of thunder and lightning, where storms constantly blew in and blocked out the sun, but Mokuba was the one ray of sunshine in his life that could never be blocked out. If he was gone, then there was no point. He couldn't ride out the storm forever. Not without his little brother. They were each other's lifeline- needing one another to survive. If one of them died, they both would.

That was why he _had_ to get better. There was no other option. If Mokuba died, then so would Seto.

Taking in a deep breath, his eyes went to his brother who lay sleeping, dwarfed by the seemingly large hospital bed. Gently, so gently it might not have even been possible, he laid his hand on top of his brother's.

_Soon you'll get better, Mokuba. You'll get better soon because you have to._


	2. Talk To Me

Mokuba Kaiba had found himself wondering many times what death would feel like.

Would it be a painful, agonizing thing that seemed to last an eternity before it was done? Or would it be something less scary- a simple loosening of the shackles that bound his soul to his body? Often times he found himself waffling between the two. The prospect of death, in whatever form it came in, didn't terrify him as much as the thought of what his death would do to his brother.

For his entire life he'd had the possibility of death looming over him like a shadow that couldn't be eradicated by the sun. After so many kidnappings, and so many brushes with illness, he'd made his peace with death. He understood that it could take him whenever it chose, and he was okay with that. But what he wasn't okay with was it separating him from Seto. Death itself did not frighten him. Death separating him from his big brother did.

He wasn't sure if he believed in an afterlife after this world, but if there was one he knew his parents would be there waiting for him. And though that would be good, it wouldn't be complete. He and Seto went together like two peas in a pod. No world, earthly or otherwise, was complete without his big brother at his side.

He didn't mind his disease killing him. He'd lived with the idea so long that it didn't frighten him in the least. But it was killing his brother too, and that was something he couldn't handle. Even if Seto never showed it outwardly, he knew. He saw it in Seto's eyes. The fear that could never be wiped away. He knew how much his brother was suffering because of him, and it broke his heart. But there was nothing he could do about it except hope that he would get better as his brother had said he would.

Now, he lay in his hospital bed, listening to his brother rhythmically tap at the keys on his laptop. He could tell, despite that, that Seto was watching him. Big brother was always watching over him- of that he was always sure. Much as he wanted to leave his brother to his work, he needed to talk to him even more.

"Seto?" He asked softly.

Instantly, the elder Kaiba shut his laptop. "What is it, Mokuba?"

"Could you… Could you hold me for a while? Like when we were in the orphanage?"

Seto blinked a moment, clearly surprised. Mokuba almost thought he'd say no. But when he got up and Climbed into Mokuba's bed, he was mercifully proven wrong. Mokuba relaxed immensely as he felt his brother's strong arms around him. He turned to face his brother.

"Do you remember the promise you made me that first night at the orphanage?" He asked.

"Which one?" Seto asked. There had been a lot of those.

"That you and I would always tell each other everything because we were all each other has?"

Seto nodded. "I remember."

Mokuba took in a deep breath, before saying what had been on his mind for a while. "I'm not scared of dying, Seto. I'm more scared of what will happen to you if I do."

Seto tensed for a moment- Mokuba could feel it- before he gathered his little brother in his arms.

"You're not going to die, Mokuba. So nothing is going to happen to me."

Mokuba looked up at his brother with the wisdom of someone ten times his age. "Seto, not talking about it doesn't mean it won't happen. I know you don't want to talk about it, but we need to."

Seto swallowed. "I… I can't think like that, Mokuba. It's too much…"

"Then I'll talk and you listen. Okay?"

Seto nodded.

"Seto, I've been living with this since I can remember. There hasn't been a time I can think of where I haven't had that possibility hanging over my head. I'm not scared of it, because I've made my peace with it. But I know you haven't, and _that _scares me. You can't keep pretending that this won't happen, Seto. Otherwise when it does it'll hit you twice as hard. I don't want you to give up the life you worked so hard to give us because I'm gone. I want you to do what you always do and keep fighting."

Seto had to fight back tears from his eyes. "I don't think I can." He said softly. "Because losing you means losing my reason for fighting."

"You won't lose me, Seto. You _can't _lose me. Even if I'm gone I'll still be there in your head, talking to you. Just because I'm not physically there doesn't mean I'm not there at all. Do you remember my first day of school, and how I was scared to go because I was afraid I'd miss you?"

Seto nodded. He couldn't forget that.

"Do you remember what you told me?"

"That if you looked behind you, I'd still be there."

"You stayed in the back of the limo until I got inside school, and every time I looked back, you were there. It's the same thing now. Anytime you look back, I'll always be there."

Seto felt his emotions trying to overwhelm him and had to beat them back down with a stick. "It's not the same as having you beside me, Mokuba."

"It's more important that I'm behind you, Seto. It's the only way you'll keep moving forward."

"I don't think I can without you."

"There is no without, Seto. That's what I'm trying to tell you. You've always been there for me, and I'll always be there for you. Nothing will ever change that. Not even me dying. I know you've been telling yourself for years that that isn't possible, but you need to acknowledge it, or you'll never move on. And I want you to live, Seto. _I want you to live_."

"Mokuba." He said softly, looking down at his brother. "If you die," He choked on the last word, "Then I won't be alive anymore. I'll be a shell of who I am now. That's what I'm trying to tell you. You're the only thing that makes me alive. Without you, who's going to tell me to quit working and get some sleep, or make sure I take a day off once in a while, or cheer me on when I duel? If you're gone, Mokuba, then I lose the part of me that's still human, and living a life without that isn't worth living at all."

"Seto…"

"I can't lose you without losing myself too, Mokuba. That's just how it is."

Mokuba reached to touch his brother's arm. "I'll always be here, Seto. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be alive right now. But you need to know that even if I die, that I want you to live in honor of me. I need to know that you won't give up if I'm gone. Because even though it would be hard to wait for you wherever I'd go after, I know it would be worth the wait to hear all the stories of things you did and all the ways you helped people. That's what makes me so proud to be your brother. You give people jobs, you opened Kaiba Land and help out orphans like us who don't have much. You make me so proud to be your brother, and I don't want you to stop making me proud just because I'm not there to see it."

Seto said nothing for a minute, before pulling his brother close to him. Mokuba was happy to snuggle into him, as Seto spoke again. "I always want to make you proud, Mokuba. I know you want me to accept… that. But I just…" He trailed off.

"I get it." Mokuba said quietly. "I mean, who are you if you're not fighting for my life or taking care of me, right? "Big Brother" is a huge part of who you are. But it doesn't change just because I'm not there, Seto. You'll always be my big brother."

Seto pressed him close, ignoring the tear that was falling down his cheek. "And you'll always be my little brother. That's why you have to get better. You're not supposed to go before I do. Please don't, okay?"

It was likely as close to an acknowledgement of the situation as Mokuba would get. Mokuba squeezed him as tight as he could. "I'll try my best."

The two of them held to each other that way for a long time- long enough for Seto to pull himself together again. Then, Mokuba spoke up. "Seto?"

"Hmmm?"

"Will you tell me a story?"

Seto smiled. It had become a tradition of theirs for him to tell his brother stories in the hospital, starting from Mokuba's first admission. He hoped Mokuba never stopped asking him for them. "Sure, kiddo. What story do you want to hear?"

Mokuba thought about that for a minute, and then spoke, very quietly. "What did Dad used to do while I was in here the first time?"

Seto froze momentarily before composing himself. The kid deserved to know the whole story. "When you were getting treatments he used to stand outside the door at the window, smiling at you so you knew he was there. Sometimes he'd take me to the cafeteria if you were sleeping, and I'd ask him what was happening with you. If you didn't want to eat, he used to make a game out of it. He'd have you close your eyes and guess what was in the food. It worked pretty well, actually. When you were awake, he used to tell you stories or play with you. When you cried, he used to climb into your bed and cradle you in his arms, and I'd sit by him and rub your back until you either stopped or fell asleep."

"Is that why you used to climb into bed with me in the orphanage when I cried? Even though it might have gotten you in trouble?"

He nodded. "Yes. That's right."

A faint memory tugged at Mokuba, so faint that he had to grab onto it with both hands to keep it playing. "Did Dad used to sing to me when I was here?"

Surprise flickered across Seto's expression. "He did. I'm surprised you even remember that."

"There was one song… What was that one song he used to sing all the time?"

"Big Rock Candy Mountain." Seto said, as the memory uncovered itself for him.

"It used to make me smile, didn't it?" The memory was very faint, but he thought he could remember a deep, gravelly tenor voice singing to him, and himself feeling very happy and safe by it.

Seto nodded. "Every time. You used to tell me that someday you were going to find the big rock candy mountain because it sounded like so much fun."

"Will you sing it for me? Please?" Mokuba asked, looking up at him.

Seto hesitated a moment, considering himself a bad singer, but one look into Mokuba's eyes and he couldn't say no. He took in a breath, and started to sing.

"One evening as the sun went down

And the jungle fire was burning,

Down the track came a hobo hiking,

And he said, "Boys, I'm not turning

I'm headed for a land that's far away

Besides the crystal fountains

So come with me, we'll go and see

The Big Rock Candy Mountains."

Mokuba found himself grinning by the end of it, and the sight made Seto smile just a tiny bit. It was comforting to know that some things never changed, despite the passage of time.

"You're a really good singer, Seto."

Seto smiled. "I don't think so, but thank you. Mom was the singer in the family." He mused.

"Really?"

Seto nodded. "She used to play the piano and sing all the time. She always filled the house with music. She used to sing all the time when she was pregnant with you. You used to kick a lot when she sang. That's why she did it so much."

"Maybe you got the talent from her." Mokuba offered.

Seto pondered that for a moment. Then: "Maybe."

"Did I get anything from her?"

"She used to sketch a lot. She liked art. I think you got that from her."

Mokuba beamed at that. "Really?"

"Mhm. She used to sit out on the back patio and sketch in the mornings."

"You think that's why I'm such a morning person?"

"Maybe."

Mokuba beamed at his brother. "I like that."

Silence prevailed over them for a moment, before Mokuba nestled into his brother. "Did I ever thank you, Seto?"

"Thank me? For what?"

"For everything, Seto. You never gave up on me, even when everybody else did. You've always been there, Seto. Every nightmare, every cold, every scraped knee, every bully, every hospitalization. I know you've said you can't live without me, but the truth is I couldn't live without you either. You're my hero, Seto."

Seto pulled him into a hug. "Thank you, Mokuba. You know, you've always been my hero too."

"Really?"

"You've undergone surgeries, chemotherapy, radiation therapy, withstood bullying, and have still come out smiling. You're the strongest person I know. I'm so proud of you."

Mokuba snuggled into his brother. "I love you, Seto."

Seto held him just a bit closer. "I love you too, Mokuba."

The words were a rarity, saved for the most tender of moments between the two brothers. Here, in the hospital, with the circumstances surrounding them, there was no more important time to say those words than now. Mokuba was smiling, he could tell.

A yawn broke the moment.

"I'm tired, Seto…" Mokuba sighed.

"Get some sleep, little brother. You need your rest."

"Will you stay with me?"

"Always." Seto promised.

With that, Mokuba went to sleep, feeling a little more at peace, as his brother held him in his arms.


End file.
